January 14.

A few days ago we took G— to see the annual swimming sports in the small river which runs through the park. It was a beautiful afternoon, for a wonder, with no lowering thunder-clouds over the hills, so the banks of the river were thronged, for half a mile or more, with spectators. It made a very pretty picture, —the large willow trees drooping into the water on either shore, the gay concourse of people, the bright patch of colour made by the red coats of the band of the regiment stationed across the stream, the tents for the competitors to change in, &c., and the dark wondering faces of Kafir and Coolie, who cannot comprehend why white people should take so much trouble, and run so much risk, to amuse themselves. We certainly must appear to them possessed by a restless demon of energy, both in our work and our play, and never more so than on this hot afternoon, when, amid much shouting and laughing, the various water-races came off.

The steeple-chase amused us a great deal, where the competitors had to swim over and under various barriers across the river; and so did the race for very little boys, which was a full and excellent one. The monkeys took to the water as naturally as fishes, and evidently enjoyed the fun more than any one.